Seated on a couch in the south study,we lift the curtain to see the rising moonpouring its glorious brightness upon the water,casting ripples of light upon shutters and doors.It will move through its cycle, full moon to crescent again, transforming quite vainly from old to new,and is it shining on the ancient limpid river? So distinctly human, pure and beautiful,but the night is bitter with a moaning hum:there is a distance indeed, and yet,the scent of orchids on the passing breeze.